She glances at me as she heads down the stairs. “I may have, um . . .” “Oh,” I say as it clicks. I holler to Cooper that we’re about to leave, then lead the way to my car. “You googled me?” “More specifically, I googled your father. Your family. But you came up.” She buckles into the passenger seat, biting her lip as she looks at me. “Is that a problem? I’m sorry.” “It’s not like you were snooping. It’s right there on the internet.” It does feel strange, though. I don’t have any big secrets, the real reason behind the mess of last fall aside, but knowing she did research on me, like I’m some
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